


this wasn't supposed to happen.

by picklejarman



Category: The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals - Team StarKid
Genre: F/M, and it just happens to be a tgwdlm au, dont judge me, emma will let it out instead of paul :-), please be nice to me this is my first time posting on ao3, yeah chapter 2 fucking hurts dont min d that too much
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:21:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23539051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/picklejarman/pseuds/picklejarman
Summary: emma wore her seatbelt and didn't get a really bad leg injury, which should've made things better for her and paul, right?she was wrong.pretty f'in wrong.[alternate universe ending for tgwdlm]
Relationships: Paul Matthews/Emma Perkins
Comments: 12
Kudos: 33





	1. on the shoreline.

**Author's Note:**

> hi this is my first time actually putting stuff on ao3 (i was a co-author of something a ways back) and i don't know how to format stuff...  
> comments and kudos and stuff... very appreciated.  
> it'll let me know that you want me to post the rest of it on ao3  
> ..please let me know if its unreadable as well i can and will fix it

Absolute quiet was not an unwelcome sensation after all the stuff that just went down. In fact, it was the closest thing to comfort, aside from the realization that she was very much still alive and breathing. Emma let herself bask in the quiet for a few more moments, and opened her eyes. It took her a moment to recollect her thoughts, and what happened up to this point. 

Ah, right. Helicopter, Zoey, and the sensation of going down. Way down. She shuffled a bit, not feeling anything super painful, save for a few aches. Perhaps if Paul hadn’t forced her seatbelt on her, she’d be feeling quite differently right now. Speaking of-- He was no longer next to her. Where was he?  
Emma unbuckled herself and slid out of the now-defunct helicopter, vaguely seeing a figure in the dark. This could either be really good, or really bad, depending on who the figure was. She got closer and-- It’s Paul. Emma let out a sigh of relief. Thank god.

Paul straightened himself out as he heard footsteps come closer, only to turn and face Emma. With a wordless smile, the two embraced, having just survived a damn helicopter crash. They held onto each other until Paul broke the silence. “We’re still in Hatchetfield,” He turned away from her, looking at the shoreline, “...and I don’t think we’re in any condition to swim all the way to Clivesdale.”

Emma let her arms fall from Paul’s hug, realizing he was right, in both manners. She was exhausted, and she bet he was as well. “What are we going to do, then? Wait until they find us and get us?” The stiff silence hung over both of them. It was hard to think about, but she was right. If they wait there, someone’s most likely going to find them. If they tried to swim all the way there… Well, Emma knew her limits. She really, really did not want to end up trying to swim all the way to Clivesdale. 

Paul had let Emma’s questions sink in before he could answer. “I don’t know what we’re going to do,” He put it bluntly, “Maybe we should try and find a hiding spot? If PEIP had one troop come here… maybe another is on their way? I don’t know.” Despite the looming threat of the Hive, both Paul and Emma were at a loss as to what to do. They were trapped on the shoreline of Hatchetfield with a crashed helicopter, and no way to call out for help.

Groaning, Emma dragged her hands along her face, “This is fucking ridiculous. We were so close to getting out of this shitty town and now we’re going to be trapped right in front of the shoreline, just waiting for death to come get us.” Paul couldn’t tell in the darkness, but tears were brimming Emma’s eyes. She shook her hands in frustration, huffed, and sat down on the ground. 

“Hey-- It’s not necessarily entirely hopeless,” He stepped closer to Emma, joining her on the ground, “Like I said, more people from PEIP could be coming…” He didn’t exactly believe what he was saying. Paul let his words die out as he noticed Emma’s shaky breaths. Oh, shit. She was crying. His hand immediately rose to give her comfort, but he let it hover in the air hesitantly, before asking, “May I?” She looked at him, nodded, and allowed Paul to wrap his arms around her for comfort. 

Emma found herself leaning into his touch, simply listening to his breaths as they sat again in silence. She could also hear his heart beating, too, it was fast but it helped comfort her as well. It was weird, all things considering. Earlier today, they were nothing more than vaguely friends (if she could even call them that), but here they were, finding comfort in each other’s embrace in the damn apocalypse. It’s not like this surprised Emma too much. She knew why Paul always went to Beanie’s rather than Starbucks, and it definitely wasn’t for the god damn coffee. She always thought he was kind of cute, in an odd, nervous puppy kind of way. If only they knew each other beforehand.  
They lingered there for even longer, Emma finding herself leaning against Paul’s chest to hear the only rhythmic beat that wasn’t inherently malicious. Eventually, her tears stopped. Paul kept on the lookout for her, making sure that no one was there to interrupt the moment of pure bliss he hadn’t felt in hours. He wished he could say he wasn’t anxious about this, but who wouldn’t be? Paul couldn’t shake the feeling there was something more he could be doing for them. It’s not like he was able to carry Emma through the water to Clivesdale, but he still felt as if there was something more. 

His restlessness ended their moment together, with Paul eventually taking his arms off of Emma. “I feel like we have to do something. Anything. I don’t know.” He was extremely unsure of his situation.

“Weren’t you the one who just said that PEIP may be coming?” Emma cocked an eyebrow, looking up at Paul. She noticed how nervous he was, and rightfully so. It was just a lot more obvious on him.

“Well, yeah, but--” 

She laughed, shaking her head at him. “I get it. You’re restless. I am too. What do you think we should do?”

“Is there any way we could just… take them out?” 

Emma mulled on that for a moment, and the gears started working in her head. “Oh, shit. The meteor.” Her eyes widened, “I think I may be on to something.” She lifted herself up from the ground, dusting off her shorts. “Your friend. The greasy one--”

“Ted?”

“Yeah. That asshole. He was talking about how… Fuck, what was it. ‘You cut the head off and the whole thing goes down’... something like that. The meteor is more than likely the head of the whole thing so…”

Paul caught what she was throwing, “If we take down the meteor the rest of them go down as well?” He was nodding in understanding along his words.

“Considering there isn’t anything else that came from space, I think so. We just need something to blow that sucker up with.”

His face lit up, holding up one finger. Paul got himself up and hurried over to the helicopter, shifting in some debris before he found a belt of grenades. He swiftly put it over his shoulder, returning to Emma with a smile. “This’ll do, right?”

“...Did you know those were in there?” Her face scrunched in amused bewilderment.

“I saw them when I first got out of the helicopter. Glad I made a note of it.”

“Let me get something too, I’ll go with--” Emma got cut off by Paul’s protests.

“It’s better if you stay here. That way, there’ll be at least one survivor. Who knows, if we both went, they could kill us and that would be that. So…” Emma looked into Paul’s eyes. He was determined. He knew this was what he had to do. Almost sadly, she nodded, taking into consideration what he was saying. He was probably right. If they both went and they both died, that would be the end of everything. “...Thank you, Emma.” Paul cupped his hands together, and took a big breath, preparing himself for what’s to come. “Okay, so I guess I’ll just…”

“Wait.” He stopped himself, “...I know why you came to Beanie’s all those times. It wasn’t for our shit coffee,” Paul reluctantly found himself nodding in agreement. It wasn’t the best (quite frankly, it was an acquired taste that he got used to), but seeing Emma made it worth it, “our coffee definitely was shit. And-- sometimes we spat in it because we didn’t care, and you probably drank my spit, but I didn’t know you back then-- and… now I do! And… If we get out of this bullshit-- which we will!-- I would love to just see a nice, silent movie with you. But… in case we don’t… kiss me?”

Paul stared at Emma for a moment, forgetting all the stakes. His face was beet red, and he slowly went closer to her, barely able to make out the soft, “Okaaay…” that sounded so much like him before he was thrusted into the apocalypse.  
There was nothing in the way of their long-awaited kiss. Emma lifted herself up to cup Paul’s face, and the two held each other there, timelessly. They weren’t perfect kissers by any standard, but for the two of them, it felt like everything else could wash away and it just be the both of them outside of time.  
Unfortunately, the world had to be saved, instead. Paul pulled away from the kiss, still a bit disoriented. It felt exactly the way he thought it would feel. If he hadn’t been so determined to stop the end of the world, he would’ve gone back in… but that was for another time. Emma’s hands drifted from his face as he leaned away, giving one last nod. “I’ll be waiting.”

With that, Paul began his trek to the old Starlight Theater.


	2. he was so close.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> paul's on his way to the starlight theater... but the hive's impatient

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hurt myself bad with this its owch  
> "i dont like-- i do like it but its painful" ~ my friend wilson 2020  
> please take care of urself pauls gonna go through a very bad time

Since he started his stride to the Starlight, Paul’s hands had not left the loop of grenades slung over his shoulder. His breathing was admittedly quite erratic, despite his copious attempts to calm himself down. Every idle sound had him on high alert as he tried to listen for any noises other than his footsteps. 

Calm down, he tried to tell his racing heart, calm down. Paul knew he couldn’t, really. He was going to blow up a meteor in the goddamn Starlight Theater… but he had to try. He had to try and still his racing thoughts, his racing heart, and his racing anxiety. For Emma. For Bill. For Alice. For the Professor. Hell, even for Ted. Even if he was thinking of turning around and going back to the shore, he wouldn’t admit it to himself. Maybe, if he did, he’d make some excuse that would go somewhat like, ‘Oh, there were too many of them swarming and it wasn’t a good idea for me to go forward.’ Paul scrunched his face up at his theoretical excuse. No, definitely not. What the hell would Emma think after he was so dead-set on doing this?

The reality was: despite his determination, Paul was afraid. Terrified, even. This whole day has been nothing but death rearing its head in front of him, toying with him, taunting him as it snatched away the people he knew and loved. Death showed itself in the form of the infected, their scarily reanimated bodies singing and dancing to music that he couldn’t hear. It terrified him, and with every step, he was closer to the damn head of death. The damn head of the hivemind. 

Paul found himself muttering underneath his breath, his eyes constantly scanning his surrounding area. How foolish of him would it be if he let himself be hit by a surprise singing alien attack. He figured he’d be prepared enough if one or two came at him, all things considering, but he couldn’t be too careful. Although, Paul noticed, everything seemed so much quieter. Ever since the helicopter crash with Emma’s infected coworker-- shit, Paul didn’t remember her name.. Oh! Wait-- Zoey, there hadn’t been one infected person to show up… at all. He mulled that fact over to himself. It didn’t bring him comfort, but it didn’t scare him anymore than if there were infected out and about. To his knowledge, there were no eerie glowing blue eyes following him, and he appreciated that greatly. If he had let his thoughts get the best of him, he wouldn’t be able to do what he had to do.  
Paul kept his head forward, until he heard what seemed to be soft vocalizing. He clenched his fists and darted his eyes around, looking for any signs of the infected. Nothing but vocalizing. The eerie, soft vocalizing that Paul compared to a siren’s song in a storybook. He slid himself into a quieter alleyway, collecting his composure briefly.

‘You gotta do this,’ He told himself, softly tapping his fists against each other, ‘No matter how scared you are.’ His mind flashed to Emma, who was most likely just as anxious as he was, even if she wasn’t the one actually going to the meteor. ‘As long as you do this, she’s gonna be able to get out of here.’ 

With a shaky exhale and a brief nod, Paul pushed himself back out of the alley, allowing his anxiety to fuel his stride. He knew Hatchetfield, as dark and dead as it may have been. He knew how far he’d walked, and how much farther he’d have to go until the Starlight. Paul was able to do this. Paul was nearly there, he knew this. He couldn’t quite see it yet, but the familiar buildings surrounding gave it away. He was actually going to get there, he was going to blow up the meteor, he was going to--

“You’ve kept us waiting for far too long, Paul.” Paul’s heart jumped to his throat as the dead figure of his best friend presented himself. Shit. He was going to have to fight Bill off to get to the theater, wasn’t he? 

“Bill, I know you’re probably not in there, but if there’s a slim chance you are… Please, get out of the way so I can just… get to the Starlight,” He made a feeble attempt to appeal to his best friend. He knew, deep down, it wasn’t going to work anyways... but if Paul’s heart wasn’t beating at a thousand beats per second, it sure was then. 

“You won’t get a chance to,” The chilling melodic voice came from behind him. Alice? It couldn’t be, and yet... He hesitantly turned around to see the teenager, head cocked to the side, eyes glowing the same as her father’s. A shaky breath left him, Paul attempting not to let himself cry at the sight of them both. 

His hesitancy to move proved dangerous, as more of them showed themselves from the nooks and crannies of the street. “We gave you a chance, and you blew it,” Paul didn’t want to listen to Alice taunting him, but they were closing in on him. He had no choice but to move as he backed right into Bill. His arms wrapped around Paul upon contact. Shit. He had to get out. Pushing his arms forward, he broke out of the man’s grip, but saw no exit as the infected tightened their formation around him. Paul was going to have to brute force his way through… something he never thought he’d have to do.

Two of them lurched forward, going for their prey. Paul yelled out in response, and forced his body against one of his assailant’s. They stumbled backward, snapping their head up with fury. If adrenaline wasn’t making his mind go on overdrive, Paul would’ve recognized them as someone who also worked at CCRP Technical, but it didn’t matter now. They were dead, and if he wasn’t careful, he’d be as well. With no time to dwell on those he couldn’t easily recognize, he whipped himself back around, only to be trampled by what looked like what could be a former security guard of some sort. Paul fell back on his leg, which twisted in a terrible way. He could hear it make a crunching sound, but couldn’t process the pain. Self-preservation kicked in, and with his upper body strength, he shoved the infected man off of him. He scrambled back up on his feet, but was standing unsteadily. 

His eyes, despite welling up with tears, darted around to see an exit, any exit. The infected weren’t as impacted together as they were before, and Paul had a chance. A slim, but existent, chance. He made a break for it, but the people of the Hive never stayed down for long. They knew he had hurt himself, and took their own chance. The security guard darted in front of him, and his fist connected with Paul’s face. 

Paul felt the blood begin trickling down at an alarming rate as he stumbled back yet again. He couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. His hands were shaking, his leg was throbbing, his nose was bleeding and it hurt like hell. Despite his mind swarming with alarms to get out, somehow gain strength and leave, Paul couldn’t move.  
“Your suffering will end soon enough,” He heard them say-- or sing, their voices all connected in one tune. He tried to struggle. He lurched himself forward, but was caught into Bill’s arms. Paul saw his best friend’s face, being used to look down upon him with scorn. Arms were brought from behind him, and he could see a faint blue glow. He felt like he needed to cough, needed to vomit, needed to protest as they brought it upon him. 

There was an odd warmth, and Paul moved his body to fight against it, but it felt like it was forcing his whole body into a calmer state. His mind blurred as they were walking him to the theater. He was being brought along by the arms of the infected, but he wasn’t aware his feet were moving as well. Whatever they had done to him broke down his fighting spirit. Paul had enough strength to lift his head up as they entered the theater. He heard music-- faint, but it was there. It would get louder, and louder, and louder until…  
The meteor. They threw him down in front of it. Paul tried to catch himself on the stage, transfixed on the rock’s glow. He heard their music, their song, and the source of it. It seemed to be humming as well, coaxing him to fully give up. Paul’s better senses were drowned out by the sheer intensity of everything-- his apotheosis. He could feel a hopeless smile form on his face as the first strangled note came out of his mouth.

He couldn’t fight it. He couldn’t move, or stop himself from humming along. In fact, he didn’t feel anything as the Hive moved on stage, or as they aimed a gun to him-- how ironic that they were using a gun of all things-- or as they shot.

One shot in the heart, twice in the head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank u for reading and im very sorry if i hurt u but please comment like and subscribe if i did (this is comedy to deflect from my emotional pain of writing this)


	3. for them.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> emma's resolution is at its peak. she's gonna go kick some alien ass because she can be impulsive sometimes and also fueled by loner anxiety [pensive emoji][fist emoji]

Emma had no clue how long she was waiting. She had no clue what she was waiting for. Sitting between a crashed helicopter and salvation that was just a bit too far away accentuated how quiet and lonely it was without Paul’s company. Since he left, she’d been musing alone to herself, staring up at the night sky, wondering when-- or if-- anyone was going to come. 

Emma didn’t want to make a scene, especially since she didn’t know who was human or who was one of them. At least for now, she didn’t have to figure that out since she was all alone. Damn. She was all alone, all right. 

An odd sense of dread manifested itself in the pit of her stomach. She attempted to soothe herself by listening to the soft rustling of the leaves, which gave a quiet ambiance from the slight breeze. Needless to say, it didn’t work. She was just as fucking restless as Paul was when he first left. The question arose again: How long has it been since she’d been waiting for someone to come? Emma cursed under her breath. She hated this shit. She hated being stranded in fucking Hatchetfield of all places, she hated being stuck in a damn apocalypse, she hated the fact that it was likely that Paul was--

No. She didn’t want to complete her thought. He couldn’t have been. He wasn’t stupid. Emma knew he wasn’t. This whole time, he hadn’t gotten caught by them, and she doubted that he let himself get fucked over so late into the game. He couldn’t have been.

The pit of dread in her stomach begged to differ. Emma shifted uncomfortably, trying not to listen to the thoughts that were slowly coming to the surface. Realistically, she thought she’d hear an explosion if a meteor were to be blown up. Realistically, she’d thought she’d at least hear the stupid screams of the damned aliens falling, or something. Realistically, there should’ve been noise...

But there wasn’t. Emma could hear her heartbeat in her ears, anxiety rising. That damn feeling, the one currently causing her thoughts to run rampant, was so overbearing. Fuck, she couldn’t let it get to her. Paul probably just had to hide. She could feel herself try to rationalize something that never came. 

The sensation of the unknown kept drilling itself into her head, and feeding into her anxieties. She wasn’t generally someone to lose her cool like this, but she’d be damned if that wasn’t happening right now. In fact, it was especially now that she felt her thoughts rattling against her skull until they became too much to handle. Emma was going to do something probably stupid. Undoubtedly, quite stupid.

Lifting herself up from her hiding spot, she walked back over to the crash site. This was a helicopter used by the military, right? It should have more than just one loop of grenades on it, shouldn’t it? Emma was light on her feet as she made her way to the helicopter, rummaging through pieces of metal, and avoiding things that looked sharp. 

“Fuck-” Her hand grazed the exact thing she was trying to avoid-- a sharp piece of metal. Out of human instinct, her hand was immediately pulled back. She watched as the blood began to drip from it, down the side of her hand to her wrist. Emma couldn’t quite tell the sensation at first, but it started to sting. Great. Her wound throbbed, and she let out a slight groan. With her non-bloodied hand, she fully undid the ribbon off her work uniform and wrapped it tightly around the cut. Hopefully, that would stop it from being such a hindrance. Once the ribbon was secured, Emma turned her attention back to scouring for anything she could use to her benefit.

She minded her hand as she lifted things up, until finally finding a few extra grenades strewn about. Sure, it wasn’t as lucky as finding a whole ass loop of them as Paul did, but they’d do. Emma then thought about the practicality of being able to only hold two. She stared blankly at the explosives, and then began searching again. Something, anything that could hold them together-- Aha! She grinned to herself as she pulled out some rope. It was dirty, sure, but it was something she could wrap around her person without juggling literal bombs like a madman. Finding it was so convenient, Emma felt as if she could thank some kind of god or deity that was inevitably watching over her as she made a mess of things during the apocalypse. 

Emma took the grenades and fiddled with the rope, trying to put them in a loose knot so she could easily access them. Her grin only grew as she was able to sling the rope around her shoulder, grenades falling next to her chest. Perfect. She finally stepped out of the crash site, going back into the open. 

Nothing had changed, although she was just fiddling around in there for a few minutes. Still that lonely quiet that had been there since Paul had left for the meteor. She could hear-- and feel-- her breath quiver a bit as she thought about him. Throughout the entire course of the day, she never thought she’d feel this kind of way about him. Then again, the apocalypse brought more than doom. It brought out the best and the worst in people. Emma never thought that guy who came into Beanie’s constantly and had that same, nervous smile whenever he ordered from her would be so brave. It was endearing to her. Her past self might’ve laughed at her for how quickly she fell for him. Emma gave herself a small pity laugh. Her past self wouldn’t understand. Her past self wouldn’t understand why she was thinking of going after him, now. Why she had shoddily made a quick-access loop for grenades she just found laying in the remains of a helicopter, or why there was a need for a fucking helicopter in the first place. At least she understood why. That was good enough for her.

Before she went and gave an alien hive mind a piece of her wrath, she had to map out her game plan. Emma paced back and forth as she thought to herself. First, she’d most likely try and find Paul and grab him from wherever he was so they could both work together. Second, she was going to show that meteor exactly what she thought of it, in a big explosion, no less. She could do that! Easily! Perhaps her logic on how to survive said explosion was a bit shaky, but Paul probably thought the same thing. The both of them would make it out, somehow, and they’d be able to do things that people do when they survive a damn apocalypse. Emma didn’t know the specifics of what said people do, but she didn’t care. She absolutely didn’t care, so long as they were leaving this town once and for all. Emotionally damaged, but alive. Physically hurt, but alive. Emma wasn’t going to stop until that was a reality for her and Paul. 

At this point, Emma’s pacing stopped. She wasn’t just doing this for her and Paul, she realized. She was doing this for everyone who fell victim to the blue shit, whether she liked them or not. Her mind drifted to those Paul considered his friends. She only knew a glimpse of Charlotte before she was dead. Emma grimaced at the memory of the woman’s intestines hanging freely out of her cat sweater, inhumanly blue. She then thought of Bill, who she assumed fell to the aliens when him and Paul left to go get his daughter. Paul didn’t talk about what happened before he left, but Emma wasn’t stupid. Him and his daughter most likely were victims as well. Emma dragged her foot along the dirt, thinking about the implications. They weren’t pretty, she had to admit. Finally, her mind drifted to Professor Hidgens. Emma saw how he handled that slime. She didn’t think much of it until she realized how truly contagious it was. The man she knew as her professor was probably infected long before a note came out of his mouth. He, too, fell victim to the blue shit. All the more reason to go and kick its ass.

She was ready. Emma gripped her rope tightly, and nodded in determination to herself. She was going to do this. 

No looking back as she began her stride.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for breaking my usual stride with this, i had to take a few days after writing chapter 2... BUT NOW IM BACK BABEY!!!! the big hurt isnt even fully here yet so uhhh... get ready for that lmao


End file.
